


goodbye holy mountain

by goodnightfern



Series: falling up 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Comedy, Fluff, Human Castiel, Human Lucifer, Lucifer in the Bunker, M/M, Nihilism??, Road Trips, angels don't know how not to be awkward, hunter husbands, the authors primitivist agenda, the slow path towards hunter husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightfern/pseuds/goodnightfern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dusty roads, moral dilemmas, and monsters. This is the way home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Castiel

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is where I cut off fell up, threw down cause shit was getting long and, well, i wanted that to end on an optimistic note. But man road trips get exhausting after a while. Bring it on home.

"I still think we should call Sam and Dean," Cas says. The Volvo bounces over a rough patch of road. Lucifer shakes his head.

"They're too focused on killing. I don't like it." Cas gives him a sharp look, not mentioning the monsters they've already killed. "Water panthers are creatures of the Underworld. All we did was send them home. These creatures, however, belong here."

"But they're hurting people." 

"A few fingernails lost? Those people will be fine," Lucifer says, tapping his own on the window. 

"Then what are you going to do with them?"

The ahuizotl family in the back seat seem to know that they're being discussed. They're lying low in the cat carrier, simian paws clenched around the bars of the cage. Lucifer glances back at them. "We could release them into the wilderness?"

This isn't getting them any closer to Michael. The Song has all but faded, but they were both certain there's an angel somewhere in the high deserts of the Southwest. In Baker, California they found a powerful psychic at the Del Taco drive-thru, but even three intense seances failed to amplify the Song. But then Lucifer had to ask why her pinky finger was bandaged, and her description of the creature that tore off her nail the other night was all it took for them to end up spending an entire week trying to capture a troop of nocturnal ahuizotl. The family had migrated from Baja California, fleeing an oil spill, to a deserted hotel that hadn't seen a guest since the seventies let alone blue water in the pool. It took three chocolate bars - one for each of the parents, and one split between the infants still learning how to swim in the murky sludge - to lure them into the cat carrier. Now all they need is a place to release them. Somewhere wild, with water. In the past week Michael's name hasn't passed Lucifer's lips once.

Not that Cas can complain. Early December in the desert is balmy and cool. In the pale hours just before dawn the stony mountains jutting up from the scrubland remind him of sleeping dinosaurs. The highway is busy with people going to and from Las Vegas, but the town itself is only a scrap of color and waving flags in the middle of lush desert paradise. 

But they've been on the road for months, now, and every little distraction sends them further and further from Kansas.

"We're already in the wilderness," Cas says. As if to contradict, the railroad depot of Kelso raises a red tower on the horizon, embraceds by the graceful slopes of sand dunes to the west and the ridge of mountains to the south.

"Is there even such a thing as wilderness anymore? How many campers have we seen here? Even a wilderness preserve is nothing but a vacation spot for humans these days. See, I don't think monsters are the problem. It's the humans invading every square mile of the planet until there no space left for anything but humans. And their garbage. And their oil spills." 

Lucifer's been talking like this ever since the water panthers. His rationalization is that they're not hunting, they're helping. Humans and monsters and animals alike are all equally deserving of life. A good sentiment, but not something to say while they're dining on tortured cow. One thing Cas has already learned about being a human is not to think about the implications too much. They're driving a car running on fossil fuels that have instigated global wars. There's no righteous path to walk, but Lucifer seems dead-set on blazing his own trail.

Whatever works, right? 

He still hasn't told Lucifer where hot dogs come from yet. Lucifer likes them too much.

"Hey. I remember this. Used to be a lot bigger." Lucifer's tapping the map they picked up at a Bakersfield Arco. "It's called the Salton Sea now. Completely inland and deserted. When we get to the 40, head east and turn south on the 95."

* * *

The Salton Sea is a flat blue mirror in the desert, speckled with signs of a lost era. Faded signs promise air conditioning and cable television from where they lie smashed on the ground. Every human structure is a now a skeleton of bleached-white wood and rusted metal. Rotting fish and salt form a cloying reek. The beach appears white and sandy, but when Cas rolls it between his fingers he sees it's only pulverized bone. 

Lucifer clutches the cat carrier and stands very still at the edge of the lake.

Three billion years ago this inland sea was thriving with life. 

Cas knows what Lucifer doesn't. That what they're currently looking at isn't even a product of nature anymore, but the mistakes of mankind. The lake was dry for centuries before humans came with their engineers, their railroads and irrigation and created an artificial paradise. 

Blame God. Blame humanity. Blame the very act of existence.

"I'm calling Dean now," Cas says, and Lucifer nods, mute.

They spend that night camping on the shores of the dead lake. The ahuizotl are allowed to run around the moonlit sands for a while until Lucifer opens a can of sardines inside the cat carrier. When they're safely secured he sets them in the footwell of the passenger seat, drapes his coat over to save them from the chill. 

Night breezes bring a brief spatter of rain, quickly soaked up by the sand. Humidity clings to their skin, pleasant contrast to the dry air of the day. Perched on the hood of the Volvo, Cas opens a beer and passes it to his brother. They could use another one, but Cas shakes the thought from his mind. He's got a reason to keep alert, now.

"I know that this isn't entirely our father's creation," Lucifer says. Leaning against the windshield, he takes a deep swig. "But I can't help but see him everywhere I look. Like today. The poisoned paradise. The clouds covering the stars." He points to where only a few points of light peek through the shadows that have crept across the sky.

"There's a few breaks," Cas notes, but the endless shimmering expanse that has graced their previous nights is hidden. 

Lucifer chuckles at some metaphor only he can understand. But Cas thinks he gets it.

* * *

So Sam knows Garth who has a friend who makes a few calls and finds someone else who runs a sort of wildlife sanctuary in the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest. Cas lets Lucifer drive a bit down the lonely roads that wind through the desert, where he can go as fast or slow as he wants. In the passenger seat Cas opens the cage door, strokes the furry head of the mother ahuizotl when she curls in his palm. An infant clutches to the hand like appendage at the end of her tail, gleaming red eyes half-lidded. 

Lucifer blasts the radio all across Nevada and Cas knows better than to ask any questions. They spend the night in a gaudy strip of suburbia off the highway, the neon lights of a Carl's Jr. and a Panda Express shining through the thin curtains of the motel. Lucifer sits too close too the television as usual, flipping through for an hour before hurling the remote across the room. If he wants a beer, he'll ask for it. That isn't stopping Cas tonight, though. He only bought a single twenty-four ounce, so it isn't like they're going to get drunk. All he has to do is lean over on the bed, tap Lucifer on the shoulder, and hand it over. 

They still don't know the name of whoever they're going to meet. According to the contact, they're a pretty private person. Cas has his own ideas, and he's sure Lucifer has his own. 

The forest is dry and scrubby. Six miles from the address the Song begins to emit a tinny vibration. When they park the Volvo at the end of a gravel road, Ariel is already coming down the hill to meet them. 

Right, Ariel always had a soft spot for the animals. Not that Castiel would have known her if it wasn't for Lucifer. She's comfortable in her body, wispy blond hair tied back in braids and arms crossed over her stomach. Her smile is genuine, but only directed at Lucifer. 

"Come on," she says. "I've been expecting you."

Lucifer grabs the cat carrier from the back seat, nods at Castiel to follow. 

Golden eyes peek from the forest. Inside the house, creatures scurry across the floor to hide from the newcomers. Food bowls are everywhere, filled with everything from chicken gizzards to feathers. In the fireplace, a phoenix stretches and yawns. Cas watches her long enough to see her shift, see the clutch of eggs she's covering, and then hurries up after Ariel and Lucifer, through a plain bedroom where a pookah stretches across the bed, out to the balcony.

"You were right about the humans, Lucifer." Ariel is saying. She's leaning back in an adirondack chair, bare feet splaying across the wooden deck. "They took over the world and left no place for their little brothers and sisters. I only wished I had listened to you before."

Lucifer exchanges an uncomfortable look with Cas. Shakes his head, attempting to dismiss any of the past. "When did you end up leaving Heaven?"

"Oh, I've been out here for.... seven? eight hundred years? It was easy, keeping humans away at first, but... something happened," she says, with a quick glance at Cas. The ahuizotl are all free of the carrier, exploring the deck. An infant is lapping at the arch of Ariel's foot. "I've had some witches set charms around the property, though."

"Human witches," Lucifer clarifies.

"Not all of them are terrible." Ariel shifts in her seat, examining her cuticles.

"We didn't notice any wards on our way in," Cas says. He's leaning against the doorjamb, reluctant to join.

"Like I said. Knew you were coming."

Cas may not be able to see the warding magic anymore, but he notes a few hex bags staked to trees. A horseshoe sits over the door to the balcony. The house itself a two-story A-frame hidden in a cluster of pines, logs intricately carved in protective sigils. Somewhere a stream gurgles in the forest. The calls and chirps of creatures mingle together in a sonorous chatter, and already the ahuizotl add their high-barks to the chorus. A jackalope lopes across the deck, curious whiskers investigating the newcomers. Guarded but friendly, the father wags his tail even as he gathers his children into a cluster. 

They linger just long enough to watch the family settle near the stream, the father digging a new warren in the soft mud of the gully. 

Lucifer won't name any names, but Ariel hasn't seen another angel in six hundred years. Not that she has been looking. 

Cas drives toward the Utah border. Closer and closer to Kansas. Lucifer doesn't say a word about their direction. When they stop for the night Cas announces he's going to call Dean, but first he watches Lucifer leave the room, lean against the balcony and gaze up at where clouds have covered the stars.

He tells Dean that he's ready to come home.

"Yeah?" Dean's voice drops, husky. "What about -"

"I think - " Cas peeks out the window. "Yeah, he's talking to your brother right now."

"So that's where the giant redwood's at. You know - I hate to say it, man, but. I dunno." There's a soft , as if Dean's turning away from the phone. "Whatever that is, it isn't something I can really understand, you know?"

"It seems...." Cas starts.

"Good for them?"

"Stabilizing."

"I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. But. Sam's been doing real solid lately. And, I mean, you, you seem. Just hearing your voice, god, you sound..."

"Tired?" Cas suggests around a yawn.

"Heh. Yeah, that too." 

There's something unsaid, but Cas can hear it in his own voice. Expressions, emotions. Something beyond the dull cycle of irritability and apathy. "I miss you," Cas says, and the tenderness in his words surprises even him.

"Same here." Dean pauses, clears his throat. "So, uh, guess we can expect to see you soon?"

"Yes."

"You and...."

"Lucifer, yes."

"Okay. Okay. Guess you're keeping him in check, yeah?" A snort. "Man, what the hell do he and Sam even talk about?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, so in some angelic headcanons Ariel is a protector of animals.


	2. Lucifer

"Sounds like you did right by them," Sam says.

Lucifer wipes a hand through his hair, glancing through the window. Yep, Cas is still on the phone with Dean. He's been waiting for maybe twenty minutes, but Cas needs his privacy when it comes to Dean. "I wasn't asking you if it was right or not."

"Sure. Of course."

"I'm just telling you what happened." The ashtray outside their room has an exceptionally long butt sticking up. It's more like three quarters of a cigarette. Lucifer picks it up between his fingers. Supposedly there's germs, but all human mouths are full of bacteria. It not like it's going to kill him. 

"Yeah, I got that," Sam huffs. There's a faint woof on the other end of line behind his voice. "Down, girl. So. What the heck are ahuizotl anyways? I don't think the Men of Letters had much on them."

"They're pretty rare creatures. Very small. The live on rocky beaches in Central America. I believe recent oil spills in the Gulf have driven them away from their natural habitat. They don't normally go after humans, but when they do they take the nails, hair, teeth."

"I guess that's why Dean and I never heard of them. But... so, like, they were ripping off people's nails? That's gross."

"They like keratin, chitin. Normally they get it from the shells of crustaceans. Some populations live exclusively in the water, forming symbiotic relationships with baleen whales."

"Wow. So, what do they look like?"

"Ahuizotl."

"Could you be a little more descriptive?"

"They look like monkeys. And dogs. Otters? Their hands are not unlike your own, and at the end of their tails they have an extra grasping appendage. Webbed feet and sleek hair." Lucifer pauses, parsing evolutionary history. "I think they're actually closely related to sea snakes? One of the more interesting examples of convergent evolution."

"Did you take any photos?"

"No."

"Damn. I could have used that."

"For what?" 

Sam sighs, gives a sort of embarrassed chuckle. "Nothing much. Just... some stuff I've been working on. Adding to the Men of Letter's library. I mean, it's not like we're getting too many cases these days. Just something to do. Hey, Julie, come on, I'm on the phone."

"Their library was rather inadequate." The picture on the other end of the line is easy to conjure. Shelves of books and stacks of files, Sam bent over journals with his hair in his face. Beer between his hands and a dog at his knees.

"Maybe to you. But, hey, for humans they did a pretty impressive job. Seems a shame to let all this sit stagnant, you know? Especially with all the crap Dean and I have seen."

"I suppose they never had an archangel to glean information from."

"Guess not."

They fall silent. With a long drag, Lucifer stifles a cough. He gets those sometimes. Nick was a smoker, lungs choked with tar. Every attempt to quit failed. Suicidal tendencies didn't help with that. This reconstructed vessel has - well, had pristine lungs. These small addictions and their damage are a tether of sorts. Maybe it's just out of spite, he muses, tasting thick smoke in the back of his throat.

"What's that?"

Lucifer forgot he was still on the phone. Checking the window again, he sees Castiel's conversation has ended. "Nothing. Hang up the phone, now, Sam."

"Hey, you gave me notice for once." 

Puzzled, Lucifer pulls the phone away from his ear. Hovers his thumb over the 'end call' button. Brings it back to his ear. "Notice?"

"Normally you just hang up," Sam clarifies. "Like, boom, conversations over, okay." 

"I was demonstrating politeness." 

"Try saying goodbye."

"Why?"

"It's just manners."

"Manners," Lucifer says flatly. Then again, he's had to adopt a lot of manners. Manners keep you from getting arrested. Manners get you better, faster service. Manners get people to help you. Listening to Sam hasn't steered him wrong yet. "Okay. Goodbye, Sam."

"Goodbye."

"Now you hang up."

"No, you hang up."

"What? I told you to hang up."

Sam actually bursts into laughter. Confusing, confounding laughter. There's some kind of human joke going on here. Maybe when Sam has his mind back together, Lucifer will ask him whats so funny. For now, he just hangs up the phone.

* * *

Convenience stores are a lot like humans. There's just so damn many of them, always around somewhere, always open, always overwhelming. Aspirations by the coffee machine, depression behind the malt liquor, and the meat patties are seventy-five percent vegetable protein. All offering the same things, maybe with different branding or flavors, but when you get down to the essentials no one is too different from another. Lucifer prefers the chain stores, the 7-11s and the am-pms. No pretentious aspirations at being unique. 

The card doesn't work. A fairly common occurrence among the varieties of card readers. He wraps a bit of receipt paper around the magnetic stripe, but the cashier is shaking his head, frowning.

"You have ID?"

Lucifer has some sort of identification card Sam slipped in his pocket. The name certainly doesn't match the one on the credit card. "I left it in the car," he says. "I'll be right back - I just -"

On his way out, he manages to slip a jerky stick inside his coat sleeve. There's two more left on the counter, along with a packet of pumpkin seeds, a bag of chips, two cans of iced tea and a twenty-four ounce of Tecate, but he's just going to have to leave that behind. Outside Cas is leaning against the Volvo, tapping his foot. Sometimes this makes him impatient, but Lucifer just wasn't hungry when they stopped for gas thirty minutes ago. Cas raises an eyebrow at the single jerky stick. "That's all you got?"

"The card doesn't work." Lucifer hands it over to him. 

"Dean did warn me about that," Cas says, folding the card between his fingers like he's debating snapping it in half. "We should have enough gas to get to Lebanon? We'll call Sam and Dean in the morning. They should be able to fix it."


	3. Castiel

The Winchesters can't fix the credit card situation. If they had some way of getting it mailed to an address, which they don't have, or a bank account, which they don't have, then maybe, but if Cas just gets them as close to the bunker as he can they'll provide roadside assistance. Not for the first time, Cas reflects that he and Lucifer haven't planned this out too well. Without any stops, they might be able to make it. If Cas just keeps driving, keeps an eye on the fuel tank, they'll be fine. Yawning, Cas squints at the gas guage. Any other time he'd pull over and find somewhere to sleep, but the looming anxiety of failure keeps him up, keeps his hands steady on the wheel. Plus he's got an animated Lucifer in the passenger seat serving as a stimulant. He's used to the inane chatter and musings when Lucifer is trying to avoid thinking about something, but at this point.... he's ready to do. Well. Something. 

"What's it like, anyways? Having intercourse with humans?"

Cas is focusing very intently on the road. 

"I know what you do with Dean, Castiel. All your secret phone conversations, your little research session? Now, I'm not judging you, I'm just... astonished? Suprised. Maybe a little disgusted. And yes, definitely curious. I can't even begin to imagine what that feels like."

"It feels...." Cas begins, and drifts off. Safe. Warm. Like coming home. Like flying. He can't begin to describe it. Certainly not to a man who still has trouble knowing when he's hungry.

"I've considered trying it," Lucifer rambles on. "But. It just seems... very basic. Revolting. Not like everything else isn't. Certainly not as gross as defecating, and I seem to do that daily. I guess... hypothetically speaking, I could try it with Sam. I've been in that body before. I know what the genitals look like. I mean, that's even closer than whatever - whatever mating ritual entails."

"Once you're comfortable with your own body, it's easier to get close to another," Cas says for lack of anything better. There's got to be a better subject. After six hours in the car, he can't think of anything else. But the road gives him one. "Listen. I have a dilemma for you," Cas says, eyes in the rearview. Lucifer drops out of his reverie, perks up. Always down for a dilemma. "See that truck behind us?"

"The one blinding me with it's headlights?"

"Yes. He's awfully close, isn't he? See, I am going the speed limit. The driver of the car behind us wants to exceed it. He's trying to push me to either go faster or get over."

"The other lane is full of trucks."

"They're required by law to travel at a slower speed than us. If I get over, I'm only inconveniencing myself. Not only that, but I'm giving the driver free license to speed, putting him at risk of getting a ticket. If I speed up, then we're the ones at risk."

"So just stay where you are."

"But the question is, am I infringing on this driver's free will? I could say I am protecting him from himself. But doesn't he have the right to travel as fast as he wants, and take full responsibility for his actions? Right now, we are constricting his freedom of choice."

"No, he's constricting you by putting pressure on you. You're going the speed limit. There's only two lanes, and the right lane is slower. You shouldn't have to inconvenience yourself for him."

"Or am I trapping him? If I exceed speed by, say, five miles per hour, he might even be able to pass us and continue on his way."

"But then you're putting us at risk." Lucifer gnaws his lip. "I know. You should brake. Suddenly. Very hard."

"He'll hit us," Cas frowns.

"Exactly! Then he's at fault."

"We don't have insurance."

"So we'll just demand cash."

"That," Castiel says, "is an excellent idea."

The Volvo suffers a slight dent, but bumpers are made to bumped. An extra four hundred dollars will put gas in their tank, food in their bellies, and most importantly a room for the night. Besides, the driver turned out to be an asshole, so it's fine. They're in the clear. Heading home.

* * *

Gravel crunching beneath her wheels, the Volvo pulls up to the bunker. Cas honks once, and Sam and Juliet come tumbling out of the door. Nearly falling over on his exhausted legs, Cas accepts doggy kisses. Sam gives him a bracing hug, but looking over his shoulder he can see Dean running up the stairs, wiping his hands on his jeans, and then - 

"Holy shit! What happened to your car?"

Maybe that wasn't an excellent idea, but it worked. Lucifer has to finish explaining the story when Cas crumples in laughter, ducking his head to his chest and squeezing tears from his eyes. Dean's jaw actually drops as he stomps around the car. 

"Are you kidding me? You have any idea how dangerous that stunt you pulled was?" 

"I was very careful," Cas says. "It was just a light tap."

"A light tap," Dean echoes. "On the friggin' highway."

"It was the only way to solve a moral dilemma," Lucifer cuts in, as if that's any help.

"You - shut up, you're a bad influence. See, this is what happens when you have too much fun, Cas."

"It's really not that bad of a dent. I didn't even notice it at first," Sam calls from where he's squatting before the bumper. Dean whips around and he holds up a hand in defense. "I mean, yeah, reckless, wow, never trusting you behind the wheel again. Geez, you got four hundred bucks just out of this?"

Wheezing, Cas tries to pull himself up and fix Dean with a serious face. "You pull 'dangerous stunts' for cash on the road as well. Risking bar fights with angry, drunk men by cheating them out of their hard-earned money."

"Yeah, well, we're always packing."

"They could be as well. You never know."

"At least we're not involving two-ton hunks of steel running at sixty miles an hour, you fucking maniacs. Quit laughing, this isn't a fucking joke. Highway accidents aren't a fucking joke. God damn, Cas." Folding his arms, Dean glares. But his eyes are light, dancing up and down Cas's body, and a sudden thrill seizes him again, sending him into another bout of laughter until Dean pulls him into a rough hug, pats his back before shoving him out of the way. "Now get your ass inside."

Lucifer doesn't even have the grace to look awkward at the dinner table. A bowl lands on the table too loudly, a fork clanging on the ceramic. After a moment, Dean even throws a napkin Lucifer's way. Meanwhile Sam and Cas already have proper place settings laid out for them on either side of the steaming pot in the center of the table. Memories of months of road food slide away under melting chunks of stewed chicken, carrots, and potatoes. When Dean sets a six pack on the table Cas automatically slides one down the table to Lucifer, not missing Dean's raised eyebrows and sucked-in lips. 

"So," Sam announces, scraping the last bit of food from his bowl, "I should show you those files, Luce...ifer."

If the nickname surprises Lucifer, he doesn't show it. "Files?"

"The, uh, that monster you were telling me about. Come on."

Lucifer looks a little bewildered, but he follows Sam out of the room. Leaving Cas alone with Dean. With a jerk of his head Dean gestures for Cas to help carry the bowls to the kitchen sink. They wash up in silence. Cas hands Dean a bowl to dry, but Dean just sets it on the counter. 

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"You put yourself in danger."

"I wasn't thinking. It was... it seemed... fun," he says, carefully. 

Turning away from the sink, Dean sits back down at the table. Rubs his face in his hands. It might be a sob, it might be a laugh. "Okay. I guess we all did crazy shit when we were teenagers."

"I'm not a teenager."

"Come on, Cas." Dean's eyes are bright, but there's a hint of humor. "Just. As long as it wasn't -"

"It wasn't on purpose."

"Good." Nodding, Dean sets his cheeks between his palms. "Damn it, Cas."

"The adrenaline rush can be quite addictive."

"I know all about that."

"Dean." Forgetting the dishes, Cas comes over to Dean. Seated beside him, he covers the backs of Dean's hands in his own. "It's good to be home."

"Home," Dean echoes. "Cas, you... I worried about you, you know."

"I know. You called every night."

"Half the time it was you dialing."

"As I said. I know."

"Sure. Shit." Dean lets Cas press lips to his forehead just once before pulling back with a wry smile. "Good to have you home, Cas."


End file.
